The James T Kirk Files
by TrekkieEcriture
Summary: For JulNoWriMo 2013, a 100 Themes challenge, and a way to get back in shape writing-wise. Jim-centric, so there will be tons of angst, shameless hurt/comfort, and endless hurt!Jim. (I'll try to be nice to poor Jim every so often.) Most likely a series of semi-related oneshots; not necessarily in chronological order. Will mostly concern Jim's personal development over time.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! For JulNoWriMo this year I've decided on writing a Star Trek Reboot-based fic. And yes, these will be Jim-centric, meaning there will be lots and lots of angst, good ol' hurt/comfort, and an overwhelming amount of hurt!Jim. I'll _try_ to balance it out, but, no promises!

To further rejuvenate my creative juices again, I'll be using one of the many 100 Themes lists to keep me focused in my series of oneshots (that's probably what this will end up becoming, because if I try to loop everything together this may well end in disaster, lol).

Anyway, I apologize for the non-update yesterday, but we just got back from a one-week trip to Cali today. Oh yeah, fun in the sun and all that. I guess that means I will be double-posting today - darn, my apologies in advance. Well, in any case, I do hope you enjoy, but whatever your reaction to this first piece, please let me know!

~Disclaimer:~ I most certainly do not own Star Trek, whether TOS or AOS. Gene Roddenberry and...I think Paramount...own them. I also am not making any profits off of this story.

Warning: this first drabble _will_ be dark.

* * *

**1. First Impression**

When he first touches firm ground after months spent recuperating in space, he doesn't see vast Iowan fields or the "home" that's always felt constricting, limiting even, to him.

No, he sees reminders of death and destruction _everywhere. _No matter where he turns, the scarring images pop back up in his head, unbidden.

The sky is no longer a hopeful blue but instead a sickly yellow, a preliminary warning of the horrors found below, of the carnage and depravity running rampant down there.

The plants are no longer a healthy green or golden-brown. In their places are field upon field of decaying, listless grains, grossly discolored by the blasted fungus that caused the entire disaster in the first place.

And the people...oh god, the people...they aren't the robust farmers he grew up around. Not anymore. No, now they are the emaciated skeletons of children who gathered around him after that terrible, terrible execution order. The ones he failed to save.

The woman wrapping her arms around him - Winona, _not _mom or mother, because those two words describe the role she's _never_ played in his life - is not blonde but instead a brunette with long, flowing hair and piercing gray eyes, just like Aunt Lucy. She's saying Jimmy, over and over again, but his brow furrows because Aunt Lucy always called him Jim (and his kids called him JT). She's whispering apologies for apparently sending him off, but Aunt Lucy didn't do anything wrong. All she wanted was to protect her family, including him - and oh _god_ he misses feeling like he actually _belonged _somewhere - and how on earth could she have known of Kodos' treachery beforehand? No, that was his own fault, his and his alone. He, James Tiberius Kirk, was responsible for the deaths of over five thousand.

James Tiberius Kirk. He tries to say it, but the words crackle in his too-dry mouth and the dusty air. James Tiberius Kirk. Thinking it will have to do. James Tiberius Kirk.

But the thing is, he doesn't even know who that _is_ anymore. Outcast, genius, misfit, leader, murderer, life-saver - all his roles are whirling and meshing together in his head, moving faster and faster until he can no longer distinguish which one is which -

_George Kirk's son._

He scraps that one as soon as it surfaces from his subconscious. What, son of a man he never knew? Please. Son of a _hero_? Goodness gracious, that one's even worse. As if he hasn't gotten enough of the "Your father would be disappointed" or the "For Pete's sake, live up to your family name!" Everyone (from Winona and Sam who are _not his family anymore but really never have been, _to the neighbors who are _always trying to take advantage of him because of the Kelvin incident_, to complete strangers who are _completely fricking helpless when it comes to using an ounce of common sense,_ to even Kodos himself who is - no, was - no, wait - _forever mocking him for his part in the genocide when his father saved over 800 lives in twelve frickin' minutes_) tells him something along those lines eventually.

Everyone, that is, except his aunt's family, who are long dead.

The only people who ever believed in him, who caught a glimpse of something incredible hidden behind his now-reinforced mask, gone. With a single gunshot each.

He swallows as he remembers the grotesque twisting of their faces - yes, their entire bodies became disfigured, but their faces _especially_ - after he returned to the ruined city to scavenge a week after the mass slaughter. Really, that's the only way to describe it. 'It' being bodies piled in huge mounds littered all over the place, whether in the useless fields or by the ransacked buildings.

And the smell - oh god, the smell - was absolutely _awful_. Winona's perfume (and for goodness' sake, what the heck is the purpose of primping on a day like this?) unfortunately reminds him of the sickly sweet smell of dried blood and decaying bodies and charred remains and all the other signs of mass genocide present there.

_JT. A survivor._

That's who he is now. He snorts. Apparently the universe decided it's not done messing around with his life yet, because he's now lived through not one, not two, but _three_ tragedies that would break normal people: the first being the Kelvin, of course; the second his uncle's verbal, mental, emotional, and physical abuse; and the third?

_Tarsus IV._

Two words he will _never_ forget, for as long as he lives. Two words forever imprinted into both his subconscious and conscious; the realm where his nightmares will lurk for years on end; the site where his darkest memories and actions lie; the place where he learned to fear genius and its all too potent power. To fear himself, for possessing that genius and his use of it for evil, however unintentionally.

Accidental murder is a crime despite the fact that it is accidental. Manslaughter, no matter how unintentional, is a serious felony.

If only he'd paid more attention to the warning signs, if only he'd listened to his gut, if only he'd suspected earlier, if only he'd implemented a fail-safe instead of wanting to further his own fame!

He extricates himself from Winona's shaky embrace and turns toward the Starfleet - god he hates them for what they've done to his life, but this stern man working for them is the only person he semi-trusts out of all those who were on that ship with him - officer waiting behind him.

"Can you take me now?" he hears himself asking. (He's noticed that, ever since he left Tarsus, he's seemed out of it. As in, he seems to be watching himself from a distance, going through the motions of pretending to have recovered.) Before Tarsus, he would have winced at the hoarseness and rough monotone of his voice. Now, he settles for an even grimmer expression than before.

The officer's gray eyes - just like Aunt Lucy's - soften infinitesimally. "Son, none of that was your fault. Your design will revolutionize terraforming and colonization for the Federation."

"Tell that to the five thousand dead back on that embodiment of hell," he says harshly in reply.

"Son, I won't allow you to turn yourself in. _You_ were not the one who mutated that ingenious design into a mass killing machine."

"I made it possible, though. Without my design, without me, they _never_ would have been able to kill off those five thousand colonists," the thirteen-year-old snaps. "My god, why are you _defending_ me?"

"Because you did no wrong, JT. Without you, the others in the Tarsus Nine would never have survived. Without you, Starfleet would not have come back until the next checkup, scheduled six months away, eight months too late instead of two." Sensing rather than seeing JT's disbelief, the officer gets down on his knees and puts a firm hand on the boy's - can he still be called that after all he's been through? - shoulder. "You saved nearly twenty children's lives, and for that, we - and their parents - are _eternally_ grateful. And you know, you survived longer and smarter than I'll bet 95% of my colleagues would have."

He pauses and swallows, almost appearing to square his shoulders in anticipation for a verbal match, then continues, "JT, the thing is, we _need_ people like you in Starfleet, because, well-" he sighs- "it's not the organization it used to be."

JT - because that's who he is to this Starfleet officer, and he _is_ grateful that one person, at least, honored his request not to call him Jim or James or Jimmy - gives a sharp bark of humorless laughter. "First tell me this - why in the _frick_ would I join an organization that took both my parents from me?" he asks coldly. Winona flinches at his implication, and he feels the slightest bit of remorse for an instant before it is quashed down by his horror-filled memories.

The officer nods almost sympathetically, but JT knows better. They _all_ want something from him in the end, and his point is only proved by the fact that even this man, the first adult he's trusted in _months_, wants him to do him a favor by enlisting in Starfleet.

"The USS Kelvin, right?" Without waiting for a response, the officer continues, leaning forward almost conspiratorially, "I joined Starfleet to do my part in ensuring that tragedies like that don't happen again."

Without missing a beat, JT replies, "Then explain to me why this tragedy still occurred, _sir_. Do that, and I'll _consider_ not flipping the bird the next time a Starfleet officer comes by."

Without another word, he pushes the officer's hand off his shoulder - he won't admit how comfortable it felt, how nice it was to know that someone still believes in him - and stalks off down the dusty road back to the farmhouse that was not, is not, will _never_ be, home.

Winona is flustered as she apologizes but the officer simply shakes her hand. "Lieutenant Christopher Pike. I'll keep in touch, ma'am. He'll have to see a psychologist two times a week for at least half a year before he'll be let off. But, ma'am-" he says just as she's turning to go.

She turns back around, a question in her blue eyes.

"He will never again be the Jimmy you once knew," he says softly. "At least make sure that you get to know JT before he becomes James and shuts everyone out."

A pause, then, "Good day, ma'am."

* * *

Twenty years later, when JT - no, gosh dang it, he's _Captain James Tiberius Kirk_ now - again sets foot on that godforsaken place because they've apparently re-terraformed it, he shivers involuntarily.

His first thought is that they've cleaned up so well, he can almost believe the massacre never happened.

But then the ghosts of his past all rise up at once, and he's writhing on the ground, mouth open in a silent scream, trying to tell the governor's men who he knows aren't there (but _frick if it doesn't seem like they're right there about to chain them all up_) to take him, do whatever they want to him, if only to spare everyone else.

"Jim! Jim!" someone's calling, but that's not him, that's _not his name -_

"JT!"

He recognizes that voice. Gosh dang, but he knows that voice.

_Kev_.

At first he doesn't realize that he's said it out loud, but then Kev is hovering right there over him and nodding.

"Yeah, JT, it's ok now," he whispers. "Everything's alright. You did well."

He grasps Kev's forearm, his blue eyes dark and wild. "The others?"

"All safe, thanks to you, JT," Kev whispers, that dangerous hero-worship back in his gleaming hazel eyes.

And for the first time in his life, James Tiberius Kirk allows his tears to flow freely.

* * *

Wow that was dark. And intense. I need to take a breather for now, and I'll hopefully post up chapter 2 later tonight in the less than three hours I have left, lol.

So with the JT design, another fanfic - not sure what it's called or who it's by anymore because I read it a while back as a guest - had this situation where Jim is an absolutely brilliant kid (I mean he is in AOS too, just not rebellious yet, still the boy with perfect grades and who's eager to please) and he uses that genius to design a crop improver that would essentially be "perfect." But then Kodos' scientists get their hands on it and everything goes to heck, and then Jim blames himself because he's Jim.

For a while, I've also thought that Pike would have known Jim before that bar incident. From what I've seen on this site, lots of other authors feel the same way. So I felt free to take some artistic license. Used that with the twenty years later approach too, because I doubt Kodos is dead. I think that, like in TOS, he would have survived somehow.

Or, you know, I'm justifying it because I want to write some more hurt!Jim later...whatever works for you...

Let me know how I did, please!


	2. Chapter 2

Back again! Sorry for the double-update. Kinda awkward...well anyway...enjoy!

* * *

**2. Beautiful**

His definition of the adjective 'beautiful' changed over the years.

He used to think that Winona-not-his-mother was beautiful, based on her outward appearance. But that was when he was very young, long before he understood the difference between living and existing.

Then, during elementary school, he sat next to a girl called Susanna with beautiful soft, brown curls that bounced whenever she moved. For Jimmy, it was love at first sight. From the cute way she couldn't quite pronounce her r's to the shiny hair clips and pretty dresses she wore every day, there was nothing _not_ to love about her.

Or so young Jimmy thought.

One day after school, he'd gone behind the big barn outside the school to practice his lines. He'd liked Susanna for some time by that point in time, and he'd determined (along with some enthusiastic…_encouragement_ from his older brother Sam) to man up and let her know his feelings in hopes that she returned them.

Just before he got to the part where he finally confessed that he'd had a crush on her for who knows how long (Hey, there had to be a proper introduction, right? And it had to be casual conversation too; after all, there was _protocol_ involved in situations like this. You couldn't just up and tell a girl you liked her out of the blue!), he heard the voices of two girls.

Quickly, he ducked deeper into the shadows. One of the voices had sounded like Susanna's high-pitched, musical tone.

"Car-_lee_, give my hairpin _back_!"

Yep, that was Susanna alright. She treasured those hair accessories of hers. A dumb smile slowly spread across Jimmy's face as he imagined the expression on her face after being presented with a whole room full of the clips.

Carly was one of the better-looking girls in his class, Jimmy reflected. Then he humphed quietly. What _Carly_ looked like didn't matter. All that mattered was that his Susanna was practically an angel!

Ironically, right after he had this thought, he heard the sounds of a scuffle. He wrinkled his nose in puzzlement – he hadn't thought Carly would have the nerve to do that to a sweetie like Susanna, but you never knew.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air.

He rushed forward to the edge of the barn's shadow then stopped in his tracks.

Susanna, _his_ Susanna, was practically beating Carly up! She was slapping, kicking, even biting – Jimmy winced when Susanna grabbed Carly's blonde hair and _tugged_ with all her might – and all he knew was that he had to stop this somehow because this was all _wrong_ –

"What do _you_ want, Jimmy?" Susanna practically simpered when he rushed out from the other side of the barn (pretending to have come from the classroom).

Unprepared for her belligerent attitude, the poor boy raised his hands innocently. "We heard the scream, and so I went outside to see why – you know, saving the day!" he finishes, raising a hand triumphantly like all knights did.

Carly picked herself up, slightly bruised and battered, off of the blacktop and frowned. "_You, _saving the day? No, Jimmy, that was what your _father _did. And look where _that _got him. Is he around now?" she asked, pretending to search the school's surroundings for George Kirk.

Susanna laughed then and continued the taunts. And that, that was the final straw for poor Jimmy, who yelled at the two of them for a full twenty minutes afterward about _common sense_ and _empathy_ and _shutting up_ and other, meaner phrases before the teacher came out and broke them apart.

The next day, he'd transferred to another school.

For some time after that, he'd hesitated to call anyone beautiful. Susanna had corrupted his view of the female half of the population from then on – if such a pretty girl had been capable of saying such things (and unfortunately none of the other girls he met lit a candle to _her_ appearance), what things would less-than-pretty girls be capable of saying?

Or at least, that was how his nine-year-old mind justified his reasoning (which incidentally led to his conclusion during his teenage years that women were predominantly sex _objects_).

But then on Tarsus, when he'd met his aunt's family, he'd immediately admired the strength and willpower apparent in the females' stances and actions. The way they jutted their chins out when things didn't go their way; the fluttering of their waist-length hair in the wind; the firm, confident planting of their feet on the ground; geez, even the attitude with which they overwhelmingly disabled a male who dared to cross them was beautiful to him, in a way.

And over time, that admiration turned into first grudging respect (especially because they used their skills against _him_ quite a bit for the first few months), then affectionate adoration, and finally unbridled adulation. It had grown to the point where his Aunt Lucy didn't even bat an eye anymore, while his cousins Abigail and Hayley just rolled their eyes in mock exasperation.

Kodos (He clenched his fist just _thinking_ about that vile name)… Kodos had taken all of that, had snatched it from under his nose. And a week later, when he'd returned to the ruins in search of food, their strength and willpower – those qualities which had made them beautiful to him – were completely gone. Vanished. Stolen.

And he would _never_ forgive either himself or Kodos for having taken that from them.

By the time he'd returned to Iowa-not-his-home, he didn't think he'd ever find a truly _beautiful_ woman ever again. Or maybe it was simply that the universe just couldn't stop screwing him over, so that whenever he thought someone beautiful she was taken from him somehow. With Winona-not-his-mother, it was emotionally; with Susanna, it was _in every frickin' way possible _(though that time had been by choice, true); with his aunt's family, it was physically.

Hence the sex object view.

Yeah, he'd had issues that "slipped through the cracks" in the eyes of the quack psychologist he'd visited two times a week for almost a year afterward. Heh, more like _were hidden behind his shut, locked, and dead-bolted_ _mask_ where no one could see them.

At any rate, for almost ten years afterward, none of the women James T. Kirk came across were in the slightest beautiful. Sure, the vast majority of them could definitely be described as pretty, and all of them were at least slightly attractive, but they all lacked his aunt and cousins' qualities of fierce determination no matter the situation (_especially_ when men were involved).

Until Nyota Uhura waltzed through the doors of the bar and thus into his life.

He imagined that if he'd chugged all the drinks she'd ordered on that fateful night, he would have been delirious enough to call her either Auntie or Abby or Hayley. And then she would have considered him even more of a dumb hick than before, but hey, it would have been worth it for the momentary illusion of being back in his aunt's household.

When he slowly bled to his death one day (he was pretty sure that was the way he'd pass on; that situation seemed to come up in too many away missions to not be a message of some sort), he'd tell her. He'd tell her how much joy his fruitless pursuit of her during their Academy years had brought him, and for once since Tarsus _not_ for the challenge of adding another 'object' to his 'collection.'

No, he couldn't have told her about just how frickin' much she reminded him of his aunt and cousins, how sometimes the four of them were so alike it _hurt_, how she brought back one more childhood memory of his every time they argued. If he'd told her, she either wouldn't have believed him, or… yeah. Wouldn't have believed him.

But then, of course, his dreams had all come crashing down in that one transporter room scene. Darn the pointy-eared bastard to the ends of the world, she was _already taken_. Of course, he couldn't resist taking another dig at her every so often, though for a mix of reasons now (yes, he did have enough of a troublemaker's instincts left in him to want to poke fun at his First Officer sometimes), including the fact that he needed to keep up his appearance of _James T. Kirk, playboy_ so that people wouldn't ask questions.

So after the Battle of Vulcan, he was right back at square one. Almost in desperation, he would sometimes only do _half_-night stands in his attempts to find another woman like those four now inaccessible to him.

Then, abruptly, the truth had come to him, and he'd ground to a halt. Women like Aunt Lucy, like Abby and Hayley, like Uhura, were _one of a kind_. What was the point in going through the rough when, if he was patient enough to wait, the diamonds would shine before him?

So he'd slowed down dramatically. He'd given command of the _Enterprise_ to Spock temporarily, for two weeks, so that he could gather his thoughts and wrap his mind around this sudden new perspective.

It helped that the anniversary of the Kelvin's destruction (_not_ his birthday, of course, not at all) occurred during that two-week period.

For some time, it had almost seemed to work. But old habits died hard, so Jim reluctantly decided to allow himself a certain number (not telling) of relationships every month. He hoped to eventually work the time period up to that same amount every quarter-year, then half-year, then year, then… well, he hoped he'd be enough out of the loop by that point in time.

A couple more years had passed. He'd felt a faint kindling of something, a queer feeling in his stomach, around Dr. Carol Marcus (ah, he _was_ getting better if he also considered their titles when thinking about women), but it just wasn't quite the same.

But then, after the memorial service honoring those fallen due to Khan's terrorism, realization had hit him, quite suddenly. What the heck was he doing just searching for such a woman among humanoid species?

Weren't ships considered female?

He'd grinned afterward, thinking back on that moment of epiphany. The _Enterprise_ definitely shared those four women's fierce determination – there was almost _nothing_ she couldn't do, thanks to him and Scotty. And about willpower? Heh, they definitely weren't lacking in _that _compartment. Heck, she was the premiere ship in the entire _fleet_, probably even in the entire _federation_!

Even better, she was always so alive. He'd promised himself after the warp core incident to _never_ let his girl come that close to death _ever_ again. What with the purring of the engines, or the humming of the computers in the labs, or the informing of her built-in voice, she was never sleeping, never caught dozing off.

But perhaps best of all, she was _his_, and that more than anything else set his definition of 'beautiful' in stone. Oh, yes. James T. Kirk, captain of the _USS Enterprise_.

She was absolutely gorgeous.

* * *

Anyway, please let me know how I did with this one. The first prompt was easier than this one, I think.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! I'm back again. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, or followed. Your support definitely helps keep me going! Glad to hear that you guys liked it.

So here's the third theme.

* * *

**3. Mock**

For some time, he's supposed that, had Pike never found him in that dump of a bar, he _eventually_ would have picked himself up and gotten into acting.

Over the years, the experiences he's gone through (and the resulting need to deceive everyone into thinking he's _always_ strong) have thoroughly developed his performance skills.

He smiles wryly as he remembers back to when the constant mocking bothered him. Ah yes. It probably began with Susanna and Carly. Then came the bully in the lunchroom. After that, Frank had started with the abuse as well.

He supposes that, over time, he learned to give his uncle as little satisfaction as possible by pretending to be completely unaffected by his words. Sure, that meant he physically suffered more later, but it was worth it to know that, in his own tiny way, he'd gotten back at Frank.

By the time he was ten, he'd built up a mask of stone that took nearly all of the verbal hits for him. Because let's face it, grade school students had _nothing_ on his uncle.

Unfortunately, those foundations were laid waste once Kodos thrust his comparative _boulders_ of verbal assault at him. But again, he learned very quickly to outwardly appear to have blocked out _all_ the insults. No matter how frickin' much they hurt on the inside.

Well, the governor did one good thing after all. He was the reason why James Tiberius Kirk, at the age of thirteen, had a mask of diamond quality in place. And it only strengthened with each passing year.

The only people who had gotten even a glimpse of what lay behind his mask were either dead or are around him for hours at a time every single day. So, including his senior Bridge crew in that number, that makes ten.

Then there are the people privileged enough to see him _without_ his mask on. The first was Chris. _Was_, because his mentor and only true father in life has passed on to a better place. The next is Bones. Jim owes it to his best friend, after all, and being roommates for three straight years does tend to significantly strengthen relationships. Then suddenly, right at the end of the warp core incident, Spock and Scotty joined that exclusive group. That's four. _Four_ people in the entire fricking universe have a faint inkling of who the man James Tiberius Kirk is behind all his mock drama and arrogance.

However, there is one trait of his that he specially makes sure is visible to _everyone_, that he ensures cuts through his mask.

Loyalty.

Because while he really doesn't care anymore what people say about him (after having dealt with it for nearly thirty years, it's become more a mild source of annoyance than anything else), when someone puts down his crew of his ship, oh man, there's gonna be _heck_ to pay for.

Which explains why he's currently exchanging glares with this burly, smelly wreck of a man who has to lean against the bar counter to be able to sit up.

Ah, so _that's_ what he was like right before Pike recruited him.

He takes a step forward and draws himself up to full height. When he speaks, his voice is much deeper, much darker than normal, and some of the _Enterprise _crew flinch not just at the uncompromising harshness of it, but also at the fact that it's coming from their Captain.

"You wanna say that again?" It's stated in a whisper, but it somehow carries across the entire bar. Because all other activity completely shuts down: the bartender freezes where he's been wiping down the filthy glasses with an even filthier rag; the raucous at the pool table quiets immediately; some of the visitors even drop their drinks in fright.

The drunk who instigated all of this, tongue flicking out the corner of his mouth, glances around in hope of finding support. Seeing that none is forthcoming, the snarl on his face morphs into an insolent smirk.

"Sure thing, _Captain_," he replies before downing the rest of his drink. Not even bothering to wipe away the foam at the corner of his mouth, he continues, though now using a ridiculously exaggerated Southern drawl, "McCoy. The name's McCoy, and you better deal with it, you sorry losers, 'cause I'm a piss-old bastard in a perpetual grumpy mood who cheated through all the medical exams and practiced with a forged degree so I'd get away with killing my fa-"

With a roar, Jim leaps forward and reaches the man in two bounds. The drunk only has time to widen his eyes and whisper an "Oh, sh-" before the bar stool is kicked out from under him and he's suddenly on the ground with something uncomfortably sharp pressed against his throat.

"You still wanna say that again?" Jim whispers, trailing the blade lightly across the drunk's neck.

The drunk goes to shake his neck, gulps as he stops himself, then chokes out a pathetic mewl.

"What was that?" Jim asks, a dangerous gleam in his steely blue eyes as he moves the dagger half a centimeter away from the drunk's throat.

"No, sir," the drunk whispers.

Jim smiles at the response, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He none-too-gently heaves the drunk up off the floor, studies the swaying man for another moment or two, then promptly judo flips (more like _slams_) him back onto the filthy bar floor.

"Jim-" Bones tries to stop him, but in the Captain's eyes, the drunk sealed his own fate by _creatively _adding on to his previous derogatory statement against his best friend.

Being Jim Kirk, he has the poor bastard completely trussed up within thirty seconds. He then tosses the drunk over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heads out the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back. Once I teach this man that _no one_ insults my family."

He returns several hours later, whistling a tune jauntily, the familiar bounce back in his step. The drunk is nowhere to be seen.

"Dang it, Jim!" Bones snaps. "You didn't have to say or do anything." The Captain just beams at him, seeing through his best friend's mock anger.

"Oh come on, Bones," he replies lightly, "what kind of friend would I be if I just stood there and let him say those lies?"

The party continues then, and Jim simply waves off all the compliments and other demonstrations of newfound respect, but Bones and the senior Bridge crew know better.

After several years of working with him and getting to know him, they've learned how to read Jim Kirk a little better, just a bit deeper than before. When his eyes are dancing like they are now, he's truly happy. Truly happy to have defended his friend and to know that people approve of that defense.

And, perhaps purposely, perhaps unknowingly, he's let slip his mask again for the sake of his crew. While Bones _is_ his best friend, there was something deeper behind the actions of their Captain. After all, he took that mockery far more seriously than they thought he would have.

But the crew know now, and they won't forget. The Captain will _not_ approve of verbal abuse like that. Because somewhere in his past, verbal insults of the sort had drastic consequences, and he wants to shield his crew from them.

He is Captain James Tiberius Kirk, and though he almost always has a marvelous display of mock lightheartedness going on, his crew know better. He cares deeply for every single one of them and will do _anything_ to prevent the horrors of his own past from happening to them.

And, perhaps most important of all, whenever someone derides them, whether justified or not, through thick and thin, for better or for worse, he will defend them with everything he's got.

* * *

Right, there's the third theme. This one was even harder to write than the second one for some reason. Sure hope that's not going to become a pattern, lol.

Let me know how I did!


	4. Chapter 4

Hello there! Hope my fellow US authors enjoyed their 4th of July. Fireworks are the bomb. So anyway, didn't upload the fourth chapter yesterday because of those Independence Day events. Which means I unfortunately will be double-posting again today, awk.

At any rate, thank you again to everyone that's supported me so far! Hope you enjoy this latest addition to the oneshot family!

Warning: Contains many spoilers for _Into Darkness_.

* * *

**4. Smile**

He has many different smiles, each one defined for specific situations.

Take, for example, his trademark _I'm James Tiberius Kirk_ smirk (rhyme fully intended). It's pretty much a one-size-fits-all and is his go-to smile in most cases, but he's noticed that it tends to pop up most whenever his crew needs confidence that they _will_ succeed, and/or when he's in a bad (read: rebellious) enough mood to mock whoever is doubting/questioning him at the time.

Then there's his icy _you __**will**_ _die _smile that could probably more accurately be classified as a snarl. Used on any and all enemies who dare to hold _any_ of his crew prisoner (as well as arrogant drunks who insult anyone in his surrogate family), and reserved _specially_ for those villains that harm _anyone_ in that family.

Well, it's also used on anyone stupid enough to ask about his past more than once.

Anyway, after that there's his _I can empathize _smile. He has to admit, in years past he used it to bed an almost unfathomable number of women, but lately, he's proud to say, he's been using it more and more as a genuine way to comfort his crew whenever issues come up in their lives.

After all, while being Captain means many different things, one of its main definitions (in his eyes) is to _always_ be ready to provide support for his family.

He shuts off the computer after finishing his Captain's Log for the day, then leans back in his desk chair, steepling his fingers. A genuine smile slowly spreads across his face as he recalls the holiday celebration hosted on the _Enterprise_ last night.

Ah, that's right. The elusive _whoa, I actually feel...**happy**_ smile has joined the ranks as well.

It's the rarest of his smiles, and rightfully so, considering his past. After Tarsus, his first smile of this kind happened at the Academy after many months spent getting to know Bones. However, within the past year or so (since the _Enterprise_ was assigned her unprecedented five-year exploratory mission), it's popped up at an increasing rate with every passing month.

He's a conflicting mix of relieved and alarmed at this.

Relieved, because his mask is finally wearing away. After twenty years of using it. Now his crew, his family, can at long last see who he really is.

Alarmed, because his mask is finally wearing away. After twenty years of using it. Now his crew, his family, can at long last see who he really is.

He doesn't want to have to deceive his family any longer, yet paradoxically, he's not sure he wants them to see what's behind the mask, either.

Heck, it's been defending him for so long even _he _doesn't clearly know who James Tiberius Kirk truly is anymore.

If only Chris were here. The smile fades off his face as a lump forms in his throat. Whenever he spoke to the exemplary Captain (later Admiral), he could relax. Chris always saw right through his mask. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he's willing to bet that Chris understood him better than he understands himself.

The smile returns to his face as he recalls the conversation he had with his friend, mentor, _father_ while in...stasis. That was probably the most accurate description for it.

_Blackness._

_As his senses slowly return to him, that's the first thing he notices. It's dark, so dark, like the venomous fury and hatred boiling through his veins only...how much time had passed since he'd last talked to Khan? A day? A week?...ago._

_His sensation of touch finally comes back. Ah, so that's why it's so dark. His eyes are closed._

_Slowly, he opens them. They're slightly gummy, and there's resistance when he first tries, as if he's been...out, gone, whatever the term is...for longer than he originally thought._

_"You're awake."_

_At the sound of the gravelly, deep voice, memories flood back into his head. The warp core chamber, Qo'noS,__ the room with all of Starfleet's top officers,__..._

_He sits up. He's on a spotless white surface, surrounded by white mist obscuring the surroundings. Sitting about three feet away is - no, it can't be. _

_"I'm dead."_

_It's a statement, not a question, one that brings an easygoing smile to Chris's face. _

_Jim studies his father in all but name. He looks so relaxed, more at peace with himself than he probably ever has been. _

_"Are you?" comes the reply. "Why do you think so?"_

_Jim considers his answer carefully. For some reason, he feels like he's got all the time in the world to respond. _

_"Well, considering that we're in a white room - or are we actually enclosed? - and that I feel completely healed-" he shakes his arms and legs and inhales deeply - "it sure seems like I am." A pause. "Is this heaven, then?"_

_Chris chuckles. "It is what you make of it, son."_

_At that last word, Jim's gaze jolts from the floor to the Admiral. Stricken, he protests, "I don't deserve a father, Chris. Certainly not you. I - I almost got everyone killed! We all would be dead if it weren't for Scotty. And I was emotionally compromised, not fit to command, just like Spock was right after Nero attacked Vulcan. And then-"_

_"Jim."_

_It's a three-letter word, but it has such power in its inflection that he stops. In that one word, Chris expresses love, respect, patience, and understanding. His gentle voice continues, "Jim, you did great. You saved thousands of lives by going into that chamber, and in the face of death not only accepted full responsibility but also gave everything you had - including your own life - for your crew. If doing all that doesn't make you deserve a father, Jim, then I don't know _what_ does."_

_And there it is. That rare, truly happy smile slowly spreads across his face._

_By the time he realizes he is also crying, Chris is gone, though one last sentence resounds in Jim's head: "I'm proud of you, son."_

"Son."

One three-letter word with, again, so much power. It means he belongs. It means he is loved. It means he has someone to turn to when the going gets tough. It means he finally has a family that cares.

His thoughts turn to the other members in his slightly dysfunctional surrogate family.

Bones. His CMO and best friend, his _true_ brother who's somewhat older than he is and far wiser than he will ever be. A prickly, gruff miracle worker of a surgeon whose outward appearance hides a heart of gold.

Spock. His First Officer, his trusty sidekick balancing out his own recklessness and irrationality. A calm, collected intellectual who feels far deeper than most would guess at first glance.

Sulu. His Helmsman, the younger brother he's never had who's hiding deep potential. A serious, dedicated born leader who just needs his own chance to flap his wings and shine.

Chekov. His Navigator, his innocent nephew who's still a bit socially awkward. A young, excitable genius who performs mind-blowing calculations in the blink of an eye despite his size.

Uhura. His Comms Officer, his confident sister who easily banters with him. A beautiful, intelligent diplomat who's powerful with her tongue, completely destroying the damsel-in-distress stereotype.

Scotty. His Chief Engineer, his chummy uncle who knows when to push and when to stop. A lighthearted, ingenious innovator who is just enough off his rocker to perform the unimaginable with the "Lady Enterprise."

And the latest, but most certainly not least, addition. Dr. Carol Marcus. His Science Officer, his go-to confidant who he's recently felt might become something more. A courageous, witty beauty who combines smarts with looks to great effect, especially when keeping him in line.

He needs them. They're what keeps him anchored to reality, why he's made it thus far. He owes _everything_ to them, to his surrogate family.

They're the reason why, at the end of every day, no matter how stressful or cruel fate has been, he can conjure up his genuine smile before he goes to bed.

* * *

Man, this one started out alright but began grinding to a halt in the middle. Blegh. I do like that it's lighter than the previous three oneshots, though.

Please let me know how I did!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello again! Here's the post actually meant for yesterday. I fell asleep before I could upload it, lol. Over 1000 views, wow! Thanks for your continued support, everyone!

To guest reviewer **babyblue3752**, thank you so much! I hope this delivers!

* * *

**5. Feather**

He picks the quill up and twirls it in his hand before dipping it into the inkwell.

A sigh escapes his lips as he contemplates the task before him. Why on _earth_ did he agree to this again?

Oh, right. Because Uhura assured him, with a smirk on her face, that completing assignments such as this one are considered one, respectable and two, diplomatic. Two qualities that he apparently (fine, he admits it, she's right) lacks.

Never one to pass up a challenge (as Chris correctly guessed when he gave him that life-altering dare several years ago), he nearly tripped over himself accepting this "assignment."

He sighs again and begins writing.

_Cher Monsieur DuPont,_

_J'espère que cette lettre vous trouvera bien et heureux._

Darn, his French really _is_ rusty. As the scratching sounds of the quill forming words on paper continue, he constantly has to consider his verb conjugations, whether a phrase must use the subjunctive or not, and certain cultural idioms, not to mention the structure of his sentences and...

Golly, the list of what he has to pay attention to just keeps growing.

It doesn't help that, in this day and age, fountain pens are obsolete, and that Uhura _demanded_ he write in calligraphy.

He groans as he makes his first grammatical mistake. And so close to the end, too - he only had about three sentences left in the message.

Muffled laughter sweeps across the Bridge. At the sound, Jim looks up and glares at his senior officers.

"Don't you all have work to be doing?" he asks irritably, swearing to himself that Uhura will have to work double-shifts for two weeks afterward to make up for this horrible business.

Quickly, they all turn back to their stations, though an occasional chuckle is still heard.

By this time, he's already working on the second paragraph. The tip of his tongue protrudes from the corner of his mouth as he works.

Right after he reaches the halfway point of his message, the entire ship suddenly jolts to one side, making him screw up the letter stroke he just started.

He slaps his hand on the comm button.

"Bridge to Engineering. Scotty, what the frick just happened?"

"Sorrae about that, Captain! One o' these absolutely _clueless_ ensigns - oy! You! _Get away from that -"_

He's cut off by a resounding BOOM! that shakes the ship once more.

Jim facepalms. "You'd think that, on the _flagship_ of the entire 'Fleet at least, we'd finally get junior rates with some common sense," he mutters. Then he says, louder, "Spock, you have the conn."

His First Officer nods and gets up from the Science Station.

Jim doesn't see what happens afterward, as the turbolift doors close.

When he reaches Engineering, the place is a chaotic, smoke-filled mess. Coughing, he shouts for Scotty and is relieved when his Chief Engineer pokes out his head from behind a partially dismantled control panel.

"All right, Scotty, where's the offender who caused this mess?" Jim asks, rubbing his forehead. All this commotion is definitely not helping his headache.

"Ah," Scotty replies, "he had to go to Medbay." He chuckles. "Poor laddie's gonnae get an earful from the good Doctor."

"Poor laddie, my eye," Jim growls. "Which ensign was it?"

Scotty understands from his tone that he means business and so sobers up quickly.

"Ensign Anthony Raedder, sir."

Jim nods. "Thank you, Scotty. I'd stay to help with the repairs, but -" his eyes narrow - "I've got to have a nice little chat with a certain ensign."

* * *

By the time he finishes severely reprimanding the ensign, the constant throbbing in his head has become more than a mere nuisance. He estimates - Spock style - that approximately 21% of his concentration is currently focused on distracting him from his headache.

He wearily slumps back in his chair, back on the Bridge where he belongs.

With an exaggerated sigh, he lays out another sheet of paper, picks up the quill, twirls it between his fingers, dips it in the inkwell, and -

That's not his quill.

It's a testament to both how tired he is and how much his headache has grown that it took him this long to notice.

Jim turns his Death Glare from one officer to the next. "All right, _very_ funny, everyone. Now, _where's my quill_?"

"Vell, Keptin," Chekov begins, looking nervous, "you know ze masquerade dance all ze ladies 'ave been talking about -"

"Yes, yes, the annual 'Fleet Gala," Jim says dismissively. "What about it?"

"Vell, sir," the Navigator continues, not liking the way Jim's foot is tapping on the floor, "Yeoman Rand came in vis a lot of reports. Ven she saw ze quill, she exclaimed zat it vould be ze _perfect_ addition to 'er mask. Ve could not refuse 'er, and so..."

Jim facepalms again. Scowling, he comms Scotty a second time.

"Scotty here."

"Scotty, I need you to reprogram one of the replicators for me. Get me a feather. I don't care how you do it or what kind it is, but I need one on the Bridge, pronto."

He doesn't even wait for Scotty's "Aye, sir," before cutting off the connection.

Dang, he really should have swallowed his pride earlier and asked Bones for an aspirin or something. This headache is far more resilient than he first thought.

His Bridge crew take the hint - _finally_ - and go quiet, though occasionally exchanging somewhat apprehensive glances with each other.

That, more than anything else, makes Jim stop and think. True, he's been more annoyed than usual today, but...

Oh. Now that he has a moment to reflect on the day, he remembers having to spend three hours rebooting and reprogramming _all_ of their 1,027 computers in the aftermath of their latest mission.

That must have been when his headache started.

Then there was the massive replicator malfunction at lunch that took him and Scotty an hour and a half to fix.

After that, Janice - whoops, _Yeoman Rand_ - forced him to waste two hours of his precious off-shift free time going through paperwork.

Later, when he finally escaped by having to oversee Alpha shift, Uhura sprang the dare, and... well, the rest is history, as they say.

No wonder he's been in such a bad mood.

Fifteen minutes later, when a panting Scotty delivers the feather, Jim makes certain that Chief Engineer sees his elusive "I'm actually happy" smile as he thanks him.

Scotty's shoulders slump in relief as a smile spreads over his own face and he returns to Engineering. Jim then whittles down the feather's pointier end until he has another quill.

Half an hour later, he smugly hands his finished product to Uhura, but not before spilling the remainder of his inkwell onto his personal PADD.

It's just one of those days.

As he dances with Janice (they're _both_ off-duty, all right?) at the Gala two weeks later, he forces himself not to comment on the feather adorning her mask.

* * *

The beginning of the letter translated is "Dear Mr. DuPont, I hope that this letter finds you well and happy." When I thought of feathers, I thought of quills, and then I thought of calligraphy (I hand-write holiday and birthday cards), so I came up with this, lol. Also, the rusty French part reflects my own situation yesterday when I attempted to translate a sentence in a book I was reading.

Needless to say, it didn't work out to well. French-speakers out there, feel free to correct me if the translation is wrong.

Also, I really have no idea how many computers are on the _Enterprise_. I just made it up. xD If there is a confirmed number somewhere though, please tell me and I'll fix it. If it still makes sense within the context of the oneshot.

So, there's another lighter one for you! Hope you enjoyed; regardless of your opinion, please share it with me!


	6. Chapter 6

Double-post. So here's the 6th oneshot. Thanks again to everyone for your support! You guys are great!

* * *

**6.** **Tease **

Some people take it better than others.

Take Chekov, for example. He's not even twenty yet. So he tends to either grin, blush, or duck his head, depending on how much joking around is going on.

Uhura also takes it pretty well; she usually just laughs it off, as Jim saw the night he met her.

Bones grumbles and moans, but it's all an act, as Jim knows. In fact, the surgeon will often tease right back with his quick tongue. It's part of the reason why he and Jim banter back and forth so easily, especially when trading insults.

Sulu tends to take things more literally than the other humans in his senior staff do, so Jim makes sure to hold back slightly when joking around with the serious Asian.

Scotty he doesn't often get a chance to tease, but when he does, it's more than likely about the _Enterprise_ and the latest crazy upgrades his Chief Engineer has made to her.

Spock... well... let's just say that it usually takes him far too long to get the joke and/or understand that it _is_ a joke, so by the time he does, it's too late to be funny. Though that doesn't stop Jim from laughing anyway.

Dr. Marcus also is apart from the norm, but Jim suspects that it's because, for whatever reason, he almost always consciously refrains from joking around with her. Theirs is a very formal relationship; he always feels more self-conscious when she's around, and heck, he's still calling her by her title and not by name.

Janice has a much less constrained relationship with him, and for that he's grateful. It's probably a result of spending so much time with her - they'll often work together for hours at a time, and he sees her day in, day out - understandably, seeing as she's his personal Yeoman. They have a _system_, almost, of doing things.

She'll come in at 7:30 in the morning with his daily schedule, he'll tease her about the lack of breakfast-in-bed service, she'll retaliate by marveling at the fact that he's actually awake, and so on.

He remembers when Dr. Marcus and Janice met. Boy, was the air sizzling in unprecedented tension then! He later heard rumors that Uhura teased the two of them about their mutual hatred for _weeks_ afterward.

Why _do_ they hate each other so much, anyway? Is it because they're both blonde or something? Nah, neither of them are that petty. So what could it be? Hmm...

He'll have to think on it later.

As for himself, he _usually_ takes lighthearted jokes pretty well, except when he's having one of those days. A massive headache, having to completely update all of the ship's computers, fixing the entire set of kitchen replicators, doing dreaded paperwork during precious _free_ time, and having to restart a letter three times make for a _bad_ combination. He should know.

But when those lighthearted jokes are about his biological family, well... though it's one messed up way of coping, he almost always simply shuts himself down to the world before going to the slimiest, sketchiest bar he can find.

But that second part of his routine is not an option during a five-year mission. Particularly because their last shore leave ended only a week ago.

So basically, he's limited to shutting himself down so that he doesn't snap and lash out at any of his crew.

When he walks onto the Bridge without his usual swagger and smirk, his senior staff automatically know something is up. And he knows that they know because they begin exchanging glances with each other. Oh geez, it's going to be a long Alpha shift.

* * *

Three hours in (_halfway there, Jim, you can do this_), he sees Bones walk out of the turbolift.

_I'm screwed_, is the only intelligible thought running through his mind at that point in time.

His best friend's assessing gaze surveys the eerily quiet Bridge, sweeping his solemn senior staff before coming to rest on him. The surgeon's eyes narrow and Jim's heart sinks. He's not getting out of this one.

"Mr. Spock, you have the conn," he says in the same quiet monotone he's used for the past three hours before getting up, locking gazes with his best friend, and entering the turbolift with him.

The doors shut and Jim presses the button to stop the lift before Bones can press the one for Sickbay.

"I'd really prefer not to do this now, Bones," he says softly. "Can you at least tell me why you came up to the Bridge?"

Bones scrutinizes him for several intense moments, then sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Dang it, Jim. Fine. But I was still coming up for you."

Jim frowns. "You weren't at breakfast, so how on earth could you know -"

"I didn't, Jim. At least not until I actually got up there. I came up because when Dr. Marcus and I were organizing all the patients' files, she pointed out to me that you haven't had your mandatory psych eval for _years_. In fact, you missed your appointment just a week ago."

"Something came up every time," Jim says tightly, cursing Bones for bringing this up _now_ of all times.

Bones rolls his eyes. "Oh yes, Jim, something like a sudden infectious illness, or a bar fight of epic proportions, or some other 'disastrous shore leave' excuse! And that still doesn't explain why you never rescheduled them!"

Jim shrugs, slipping back into his _infuriating rebellious bastard_ mode that he hasn't used in years. "I forgot," he replies, faintly smirking.

"Dang it, Jim, that doesn't work anymore, especially not now that you have Rand to help you with all your appointments and other bureaucratic crap! When the Admiralty find out about this, you'll be booted off the _Enterprise_, you'll be marooned on another Delta Vega faster than you can blink! Do you want that?"

Jim narrows his eyes, noticing that Bones said 'when' and not 'if.'

"You wouldn't _dare_," he hisses. "You have no right to -"

"As CMO, I do and I will, Jim," Bones cuts him off harshly. Then his expression softens. "Jim, they'll find out sooner or later anyway. Better to do it here and now, where _I'll_ be the one questioning you, rather than on one of these starbases with some random quack who won't understand a thing about you."

It's Jim's turn to scrutinize his friend. He sees the set of his shoulders and the way his feet are planted on the ground, and then he knows. It's either do it today and keep his Captaincy, or do it never and lose everything.

Jim's shoulders slump. "All right, all right, we'll go down there now," he concedes, slapping the button to get the turbolift going. "But it's just going to be the two of us."

Bones nods. "Standard procedure, Jim."

"No cameras. No audio, no video, no _nothing_. Just you and me."

At that, Bones raises an eyebrow, uncannily like Spock would. Jim hides a bittersweet smile. "Jim, we need evidence. They can't just take my word for it, especially considering how close we are despite our duties."

Jim nods, remembering how Bones snuck him on the _Enterprise_ all those years ago. "Someone tampered with the security tapes, then."

"Someone?" Jim nods again, to which Bones replies in exasperation, "Jim, they'll know it's you and they won't accept my written word. Then _both_ of our careers will be endangered."

"Oh, but it won't be _me_ tampering with the security tapes," he says, the familiar plotting glint in his eye. "An outsider, a third party, will handle the gritty work. Meanwhile, we're in Sickbay discussing the upcoming psych eval where plenty of your staff - as well as the current patients - can provide testimony supporting our alibis of being nowhere _near_ Security when the tampering occurs. So I finally get that psych eval over with, you and only you know what's going on behind the mask, and the Admiralty are satisfied. Boom! End of story."

"Uh, Jim?" Bones said, sounding worried as he looked around the turbolift.

"Oh, is it taking longer than usual?" Jim wonders absently. "Must be because of those automatically disabled security cameras. I'll bet Security's going haywire right now." Sure enough, as he pulls out his comm he finds no less than twelve missed messages from Head of Security Commander Giotto.

Bones gapes at him. "Dang it, Jim, I knew you were an absolutely frickin' genius, but this..." he waves a hand around and trails off as the doors finally open.

"Right! Let's get this over with, Bones," Jim says, the bounce back in his stride, but the surgeon knows better.

Even if no one else can see it, he recognizes the fear in Jim's steel blue eyes and knows that it's taking almost all of his friend's control to keep walking confidently forward, especially after what must have happened earlier that morning.

As they enter Sickbay, Jim flashes him a pointed glance and he clears his throat. "Right," he says loudly, "took you long enough to _get down here_! Geez, Jim, I swear one of these days I'm just going to hypo you up there and drag you all the way down here myself!"

Jim plays along, rolling his eyes. "Geez Bones, I'm here _now_, and that's what matters, doesn't it? Now can we get this over with?" he asks, glancing around Sickbay as his foot taps impatiently on the floor.

The surgeon has to wonder how much of that last bit was an act, and how much was Jim finally letting loose some of the emotions he constantly kept bottled up.

Bones shakes his head. "Not if you keep disrupting my Sickbay," he says sternly, a faint threatening overtone entering his voice. As Jim opens his mouth to retaliate, the doctor sighs and jerks his head toward his office. "C'mon, big guy. In there. Let the other patients have some peace and quiet."

This feels so much like their regular banter, back-and-forth teasing, that it almost hurts.

Jim quietly comms the third party while Bones looks away, pretending to busy himself with a large stack of papers that he'll use in Jim's psychological evaluation.

When he's finished explaining the plan to the willing accomplice, he takes a deep breath and sits down in the designated patient's chair that Bones made sure was comfortable years ago.

"All right," he says in resignation. "Let's just get this crap over with."

* * *

Ooh man! The first cliffie!

So this one turned out to have a lot more description than I originally planned, which is why I'm making it a twoshot. Sorry folks, but don't worry, you'll have the second part _very_ soon, especially as it happens to be a birthday present for one of my closest friends as well!

Please let me know what you think about this one, and thanks again for your continued support!


	7. Chapter 7

You guys are fantastic. Over 1900 views! Thank you so much for all the support!

So, like I mentioned in my author's note at the end of the previous chapter, this is a birthday present for one of my best friends. Happy birthday, Chelsea! It's been real, man, and we totally need to go do some more murder of budgies hangout stuff sometime. At any rate, hope you had an amazing day!

**Warning: this chapter _will_ be dark. Very dark, in fact: Tarsus, abuse, flashback, tons of angst and hurt!Jim. **

* * *

**7. Pure**

Bones heaves a sigh and flips open the folder containing all of his previous psychological evaluation information.

"All right. Let's get through this blasted thing. It should only take about an hour, Jim, and then you can go back up to the Bridge.

His expression lightens considerably at the news.

His best friend mutters to himself as he begins filling out the mandatory psych eval forms: "Right. So, name, James Tiberius Kirk... Age, twenty-eight..."

Jim gratefully accepts the preparation time Bones is giving him. He closes his eyes, takes a shuddering breath, then exhales. Rinse and repeat.

This continues for some time before Bones finishes filling out the required paperwork. Of course, what expedites the process is having his best friend as his personal physician.

"I'm warning you right now, Jim - you're not gonna like these questions." The doctor's tone is almost apologetic as Jim reluctantly meets his gaze.

"Fine." Jim exhales one last time, stretches, then sighs. "Just... get through it. Please."

Bones opens his mouth to ask the first question, but is cut off by the insistent beeping of his comm. The surgeon frowns and grumbles, "I told them not to bother me when I was seeing a patient unless -"

His face pales as he reads the message. "Dang it, Jim, the evaluation will have to wait," he says hurriedly while gathering up his essential medical equipment. "Prepare biobed 6 for emergency surgery. We've got a patient coming in with symptoms of that blasted Ilyvian disease the natives told us about during our last away mission," he shouts into the comm as he rushes out of his office.

Jim leaves shortly after, watching as Bones and Chapel efficiently set up the biobed station. M'Benga then arrives, quickly wheeling in the already unconscious patient.

Lieutenant Mary Hathark, one of the prodigies in the Communications department. At Uhura's request, her protégée had gotten valuable experience by acting as translator in her place during the last away mission.

"She'll be all right, Captain."

He jumps, having been lost in thought over that away mission.

"Dr. Marcus. My apologies, I didn't see you there." He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

"Quite all right, Captain." She pauses, as if deciding whether to continue speaking or not. "I take it your psychological evaluation has, yet again, been postponed."

"Not of my own doing this time, Dr. Marcus," he replies ruefully. "I hope I'd never stoop so low as to get someone else sick to delay my own psych eval."

An awkward silence falls between them for several moments before she speaks again.

"He won't have time to finish it until tomorrow at best, you do realize," she remarks in a detached way.

Jim runs a hand through his hair. Now that he's purposely resurrected the ghosts of his past, he won't be able to just waltz through the rest of the day. (Not that he would have been able to anyway, considering what happened during breakfast.)

"Can _you_ do it?"

His voice is so low and vulnerable-sounding that she almost doesn't believe that he spoke those words at first.

"Well, psychology was my undergraduate minor," she replies hesitantly.

He nods several times. More silence stretches between them.

Then, "_Will_ you do it?"

Jim doesn't turn his gaze toward her, but she now knows that if they leave the psych eval for another day, he'll (for this day at least) succumb to the horrors from his past. She sees it in the dejected slump of his shoulders and the faraway look in his normally in-the-moment blue eyes; she hears it in the naked vulnerability in his normally strong, confident Captain's voice.

"All right," she agrees quietly. "Since you're obviously more comfortable in Dr. McCoy's office, and since you started the evaluation in there, why don't we just continue it there as well?"

A relieved expression crosses Jim's face for a split second before disappearing behind his mask.

They get settled in - well, as settled in as he can be when he knows he's about to reveal the deepest, darkest secrets of his past to someone who's not Chris or Bones - and she glances through the forms Bones already filled out.

She nods, satisfied that the Admiralty will accept them, then glances down at the list of questions. She doesn't say anything when she realizes that they're "customized" to his past, which Jim will eternally be grateful to her for.

"Captain, this first question will be almost like a stream of consciousness exercise. After I ask it, you are to appropriately respond in as many ways as you can in thirty seconds. Are you ready to begin?" she asks quietly.

He grips the armrests of the chair tightly. "Ready as I'll ever be," he says, smiling grimly at her.

"What do you think of when someone mentions the date January 4th?"

"Tragedy," he automatically responds. "Sacrifice. Honor. The Kelvin. Chris's dissertation. The day I lost both my parents. Nero, who later also destroyed an entire planet without remorse. Nero, the reason why I never knew my father and why Winona-" He grits his teeth. "Why Winona was never a mother to me. Another year gone. Another year captaining this ship. Another year I've lived longer than him. A day perpetually doomed to mourning and loss. The ultimate sacrifice for the sake of loved ones. Leadership in the face of de-"

"Time," she says quietly.

He barely registers the fact that she spoke. He's already breathing heavily, trying not to dwell too much on his memories of the final recorded moments on the Kelvin.

She patiently lets him calm down - he sends a grateful glance her way more than once - and, after finishing her notes, only continues after he nods that he's ready.

"The next part is word association. I will say one word; simply respond automatically with the first word that comes to mind." She glances back down at the list. "Ready?"

He nods, though the faraway look is back in his eyes.

"Starfleet."

"Bureaucracy."

"Glass."

"Broken."

"Authority."

"Corrupt."

"JT."

"Desperate."

"Woman."

"Man."

"Captain."

"Ship."

"Family."

"Crew."

"Chris."

"Father."

"Enterprise."

"Home."

She quickly scribbles some more things down, then checks to make sure he's doing all right.

"The final part of the evaluation is a series of open-ended questions. You may take as much time and respond in as many ways as you wish for each question. Are you ready?"

He smiles humorlessly. "Just want to get this over with, Doctor."

She nods solemnly. "Very well. The first question is as follows: Who were you fifteen years ago?"

He closes his eyes. Of course the bastards would put that question in.

_When he opens them again, he no longer sees Bones' organized office or Dr. Marcus's worried expression. His stomach drops when he sees the fresh loaf of bread just out of reach and tantalizing him._

_He licks his dry lips and strains against the bindings chaining him to the wall. _

_Suddenly, the jail cell door grates open, and **he** enters. The bastard who's behind this grand scheme, the son of a gun who thinks he'll finally break the infamous JT. _

_"What's this?" the governor exclaims in mock indignation. "You **dare** refuse my hospitality by spurning this fresh, perfectly good bread?" He shakes his head. "And after all I've done for you, son."_

_"I - am **not** - your son!" he grinds out, shaking in anger and humiliation. _

_The governor turns cold black eyes on him. "Remember who provided you with state-of-the-art education, hot meals, and luxurious lodging for two years, boy. Without me, you would still be nothing but the forgotten son of George Kirk. An outcast, a social reject who will never live up to his father's standards."_

_Then the governor smirks and a cold sweat breaks out on JT's back, even though the cell is sweltering hot._

_"Though you have indeed set a record, **JT**. I can think of only three men who have massacred more than 5,000 innocents at one time."_

_A sob breaks through his mask. The instant it escapes his mouth, he knows he's made a mistake. A huge, unfathomably serious mistake. _

_"Oh, does poor little Jimmy regret what he did? Does he want a way to forget it all, at least for a few hours?"_

_"N-no," he stammers. "I - I **need** to remember!"_

_Kodos gives him an almost pitying look as he unhooks the leather whip from the wall. "Oh, but little Jimmy, Father Kodos says **yes**. After all, we can't have you crying for the whole world to hear, now can we?"**  
**_

_He grits his teeth. "Whole world? Are you mad? HALF OF THIS ENTIRE COLONY IS NOW DEAD!"_

_There's a dangerous glint in the governor's eyes now as he raises the whip. "All thanks to you, dear little Jimmy. Without you, my plan never would have succeeded. But now, the better members of society are preserved, and the food problem is resolved. Now the only thing left is for you to tell me where those other children are hi -"_

_JT glares at him. "**Never**."_

_Kodos brings the whip down, hard. Try as he might, JT can't hold back a scream as he arches his back, trying desperately to lessen the pain. A second lash now. Another scream. A third lash. Scream. Lash. Scream. Lash. Scream. _

_The whipping continues until the angry red welts completely cover his torso. In a pain-filled haze, he hears, seemingly from miles away, the governor warn him that the daily whippings will continue for as long as he remains silent on the whereabouts about the others - about **his kids**. Black encroaches on his field of vision even as he mutely tries to blink it away. _

_Kodos was right about him being an outcast, a failure of a son, but there was one thing he was completely, totally wrong about._

_No matter the price, whatever the cost, he would never, **ever** tell the bastard where his kids were hiding. He would endure the whipping for months if it meant his kids were kept safe. _

_"You won' win, 'Odos," he slurs. "I won' le' you. No' now, no' ever..."_

_And then the black claims his as its prize. _

* * *

Someone's arms are wrapped around him. He desperately latches on to this link to reality, the one thing keeping him from returning to his nightmarish memories.

His anchor is murmuring soft, sweet words into his hair. They're comforting, and they calm him down slightly.

Then he recognizes the voice. His eyes widen and he scrabbles away desperately.

"Get away from me!" he cries, panicked because for some reason _he can't let his past and hideous self corrupt her_ and -

But she grabs onto his leg, and tears are now cascading down both of their faces.

"No! I - I know it's selfish but _I want to know you, I want to stay with my Captain! _I want all of us to love, and understand each other more than we did the previous day, and - and I want us to be a _family_! Laughing, crying, hurting, healing - whatever the case may be - _all together_! I - I -"

Whatever she was about to say, Jim lets her go no further. He's heard enough.

"Carol. Carol," he cries, bringing her into a tight embrace that gives both of them the comfort they need. And eventually, he breaks down and tells from the beginning. How he was sent there as punishment for wrecking his uncle's car, how he had the time of his life until the food began running out, how he designed and researched as the governor's unwitting guinea pig, how he realized everything when the execution order was given, how he led his kids and protected them from the bastard, the awful things he did to ensure their safety...

And through it all, she is there, a balm for his scars of old, a cleanser for his heart and soul and mind, his rock and anchor of support.

After fifteen years, he has finally been cleansed of the horrors of Tarsus IV. He will always remember, always respect, but never again allow those memories to control him.

She has done the impossible. She has purified him.

* * *

That was even more intense than the first one. Geez. Ok I'm like hyperventilating right now. Chelsea, I hope you liked it. Man.

By the way, this has two scenes that reference other widely known works. One references another awesome movie, and the second references a famous anime/manga series. Virtual cookies to anyone who gets the references.

So what did you guys think of this one?


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone for the continued support-over 2300 views-whether you favorited (not a word... oh well!) or followed or reviewed! And special thanks to **elysenjazz**, who not only went on a review rampage yesterday but also gave me the idea for this prompt! I hope this delivers. Sorry for not uploading yesterday, but it took a while to hammer out all the kinks in this one (which I'm pretty sure still has some rough spots).

*spoiler below*

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

(This is set after Kirk wakes up in _Into Darkness_ and just a few days before the memorial service nearly one year later, when the _Enterprise_ has presumably just finished undergoing repairs, so it takes place before most of the other drabbles.)

* * *

**8. Lie**

The Admiral on-screen raises an eyebrow. "Problem, Mr. Kirk?"

Jim meets the Admiral's hard stare with one of his own.

"None, sir," he replies stiffly.

His higher-up nods. "Good." The Admiral's expression softens. "I'm sorry, son, but she's one of the premier Chief Engineers in the 'Fleet, and we needed someone not on the _Enterprise_ to do this so there would be less bias." There's a pause, in which the Admiral gazes intently at Jim for several moments before sighing. "Harding out."

Long after the transmission cuts off, Jim remains in his room, staring at but not seeing its walls.

* * *

Three hours later, he and his senior staff are down in the Transporter area, greeting their 'Fleet visitor and her aides.

"Commander Russell," Jim says, thrusting his hand out and staring fiercely down at it as if that will block out the face of the officer.

"Captain Kirk," the blonde Chief Engineer replies brusquely, shaking it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bones frown.

"I'll have Mr. Scott take you down to Engineering," Jim continues, gesturing toward his own Chief Engineer. "I apologize for not taking you there myself, but he'll explain what's going on a whole lot better than I can." Several of his senior staff chuckle at this, Jim included, but the Commander's expression remains forcibly stoic.

Spock's eyebrow raises infinitesimally.

As Scotty leads their visitor away, Jim heaves a sigh of relief. Sure, their meeting wasn't _pleasant_, but it went a ton better than he thought it would. And he was impressed, actually, with the Commander's control. She hadn't faltered when she'd said his last name, as if she could understand all the troubles and tribulations he's gone through in life.

He snorts. Doubtful. At least _she_ knew his father. At least _she_ understood who the man George Kirk was, unlike him, the "poor boy" who never saw him but always had to live under his shadow.

Because after all, Commander Russell - albeit many years ago - once had the full name of Winona Russell Kirk.

* * *

He's sure that Bones has his extremely strong suspicions and Spock has his own scientific conclusion as to who the Commander is in relation to him. However, they don't say anything on the topic for the remainder of the shift and for that he is grateful.

He wonders half-seriously if the ship would implode if the Voice of Emotion and the Voice of Reason suddenly both agreed on something.

Now that lunchtime has arrived, though, he moves quickly through the line and seeks out a secluded corner in the Officers' Mess instead of a spot in the center where he and his senior staff usually eat. He doesn't want to have to face their questions and wondering glances. It's no fault of their own, of course, and he trusts them far more than anyone in his Iowan "family", but he's not sure if he's quite ready to reveal this part of his past to them.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Jim looks up, slightly puzzled at the fact that someone found him; his expression darkens considerably when he sees who it is sliding her tray toward him.

"How?"

"You always _did_ run away from your problems, James," Winona scoffs.

He surprises both of them when he leans over the table and gets up close and personal with her. "_Don't - _call - me - _that_ - name," he growls.

Winona looks taken aback for a moment, then her composure swiftly returns and the familiar coldness in her pale green eyes is back.

"Mind your tongue, young man," she replies quietly, but no less harshly than her constant yelling when he was a child. "I'm still your mother."

"What do you mean, _still_?" Jim exclaims. "Maybe by blood, but _never_ by action or feeling. Dang it, woman, I'm not a _young man_ anymore either. Or have you not heard about what happened almost a year ago?"

Winona sniffs. "Oh yes, the _ultimate sacrifice_ for the sake of your crew and ship. _Just_ like _him_."

Jim's steel blue gaze is now flaming - how _dare_ she bring up the man _now_ - but before he can retaliate, someone else steps in.

"That's a _lie_, Commander Russell."

Jim narrows his eyes - can it be? - and he whirls around to confirm whether or not the firm, fierce voice belongs to Nyota Uhura.

It does.

His Comms Officer's eyes flash as she stalks up to Winona and even Jim is scared by the palpable fury in her normally warm, chocolate-brown gaze.

"You better listen very carefully to what I'm saying, _Commander_ Russell," she hisses, spitting out the title venomously, "because Jim Kirk is _far_ more than just George Kirk's son. You certainly wouldn't know this because you haven't been in touch with him for _years_ despite all the times he's called you-" Jim facepalms; right, _Communications_ Officer here- "but sitting in the chair has _changed_ him. He's older, wiser, more experienced; he's responsible; he treats all of his crew equally and fairly; he would do _anything_ to ensure the safety of his crew, as _anyone _could tell after what happened last year; and most of all - and here's where George Kirk failed - he _survives_. So don't you _dare_ tell him he's still overshadowed by his father!" she finishes, slamming her tray down onto the cafeteria table right next to Jim's.

"Nyota is correct," his First Officer says, setting his own tray down on the other side of Uhura's. "Jim Kirk is his own man. He does not let anyone or anything tie him down or hold him back from who he is destined to be. And in the past year, he has also found a balance between..." he pauses, searching for the right phrase, then continues, "'gut intuition' and logical reasoning. In addition, though his loyalty to his comrades and strength in the face of danger are astounding on their own, they are even more remarkable when one considers all the hardships of his past, including the pain he has been caused by his biological parents... or rather, _lack_ of said parents, through no fault of his own."

Winona flushes and opens her mouth to defend herself but is given no chance to do so, as Sulu pounces on the opportunity left by Spock.

"Jim was the first person to believe in me after Instructor Reynolds back at the Academy," the Helmsman says quietly, but no less intensely than if he had been yelling. "When both he and Spock were gone, he gave me the chair and was confident that I'd do well even though I'd never sat in it before. He just - well, you can't _not_ want to follow a guy like him. Heck, three years ago, he jumped off that blasted Romulan drill to save the skin of someone he'd known for all of ten minutes. A man with that kind of loyalty you can't help but respect. And, Commander, do refrain from speaking so lightly about sacrifice, if you please. Jim didn't give himself up to be like his father. He did it to save all of us, because he _cares_ for his family." He lays his tray down on the other side of Jim's.

Winona narrows her eyes at the veiled implication behind Sulu's words. "Now, this is all very touching, but-"

"Ze Keptin iz my role model!" Chekov exclaims brightly, jumping into position at Sulu's left. "Weenewer I geet an idea, 'e leestens wery carefully and does not jest dismiss me as a leettle kid. And 'e knows his crew wery well, miss! 'E knew I 'ave been shadowing Meester Scott when I zink I only told four ozer people what I was doing."

Suddenly, there's a whole line of his crew to Jim's left and right all trying to talk at once, all of them beginning to shout in their efforts to be heard. And then, attracted by the noise, more of his officers are gathering behind them and adding their input to the shouting match.

"What on earth did you do to earn so much loyalty in such a short time?" Winona asks, the kindlings of awe and respect in her expression.

"Commander, were you satisfied by the upgrades Mr. Scott showed you?" Jim says, completely ignoring her question as he gets down to business.

Winona nods. "The other ships in the 'Fleet would certainly benefit by making the changes he has already installed. You chose your Chief Engineer very well, Captain."

He nods, seemingly nonchalant, though inwardly celebrating the fact that Winona has finally - _finally_ - praised him for something. However, he would be lying if he let the credit go to himself.

So he clears his throat and corrects her. "Actually, Commander, while I appreciate your praise, I can't truthfully accept it. Because you see, _I_ didn't choose the crew. This ship did."

* * *

Gah, something about this one made it so difficult. So obviously, Winona failed at following Pike's advice back in the first drabble; I also hope Chekov's accent is fixed. I realized I reversed it in the 5th chapter about halfway through this one. If it's difficult to understand, though, please let me know.

At any rate, hope you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay again, but yesterday was my sister's birthday! Ironic considering the contents of this chapter. Thank you all for keeping me going, especially considering your responses to the 8th chapter! You guys are phenomenal! Also, special thanks to **starsinger** for the idea for this prompt! Hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

**9. Fight**

"Sir, one of the fugitives from Drele has continually been causing problems."

Jim raised an eyebrow, Spock style. "Which one of them?"

His Security Chief's eyebrow quirked. "Their leader. He refused to tell us his name, but he has blond hair and green eyes."

"Hmm, I don't think I've seen that one yet. Strange. Well, thank you, Commander; I'll go check him out. Can't have him disrupting the ship with those Jasprian ambassadors aboard." As he walked toward the brig, Giotto swore he heard the Captain mutter, "Could it be...?"

* * *

The leader of the criminals looked up as Jim appeared in front of their holding cell. _Yep, it's him all right,_ the Captain thought grimly. _I'll never forget his eyes. Though his hair has changed a lot..._

"Fancy seeing you here," Jim said coolly. "I should have guessed you'd get yourself tangled up in something like this this long after you left."

The inmate's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, do I... uh, know you?"

"Do I know you... _Captain_," Jim corrected him. "And no, you don't. Or at least, not anymore. After all, people do tend to change a lot after _eighteen years_, don't they, _Sam_?"

His words were like a punch to the gut; the inmate jumped to his feet and came closer to the Captain, staring intently at his eyes. Several seconds later, he flinched away from the glass separating them. "J - Jimmy?" he gasped. Then the shocked expression on his face gave way to unbridled anger. "_You_, a Starship captain?! After everything that's happened? Who the _frick_ do you think you are, Jimmy?!"

Jim didn't deign him with a response, but instead turned to the squadron of guards outside the cell. "I apologize in advance for the disruption he is undoubtedly about to cause, gentlemen. He must have a _lot_ to say after eighteen years, after all."

Then Jim was gone, and Sam was surrounded by his band of ruffians, all now curious about his connection to Starfleet's premier Captain.

* * *

"I can't believe it," Jim muttered. "Eighteen years, and he ends up as the leader of one of the Federation's most wanted _smuggler rings_. First off, I can't believe I didn't hear about him sooner. And now I -" he broke off, unable to go on.

Bones gazed at him sympathetically and poured him another shot. "Jim, I think he just needed some direction, a purpose in life, just like you did several years ago. You were lucky - Chris was the one who found you. Maybe - maybe Sam didn't get someone like that. Maybe instead -"

"A dark, twisted criminal mastermind found him and took him under his wing? Yeah," Jim snarled. Suddenly, the anger disappeared from his manner and he looked old, so old. "I just - the Sam I knew would _never_ have stooped _this_ low. Yeah, he could be kind of a jerk sometimes, but _this_? This is a _whole_ 'nother level."

Bones sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You've changed a lot in the past year, Jim. Imagine what the past _eighteen_ have done to you and him."

A stricken expression came over Jim's face. "Bones, I - I was so _cold_ to him. I treated him the way Winona -" he still refused to call her 'mother,' and probably always would - "used to treat me." He grabbed the glass and downed it, then set it back down, fingers trembling. "I see my brother for the first time in nearly twenty years, and all I can do is treat him like I did the Tribbles that infested the ship a year ago. And yet, after how much my words must have stung him earlier, I'm still so angry at him." He shook his head and let out a sharp bark of humorless laughter. "Just goes to show you what kind of a guy I really am, eh, Bones?"

"Shut up, Jim," Bones said quietly. "Shut up or I swear I'll _hunt down every frickin' bastard that's ever made you think of yourself as scum._ Starting with that son of a gun Frank. Dang it Jim, _you_ are your own worst enemy. After all you've done for Earth, for everyone on this blasted ship, how in the frick can you still put yourself down so much? So you treated him like scum. Well, sometimes a stiff, polite reminder _isn't enough_, Jim. Just like how I'm talking to you _right now_, Jim, I'm not being all mushy or heartwarming, I'm _getting in your face and telling you like it is_. And after getting himself this deeply embroiled in large-scale criminal activity, he _needs_ a wake-up call, Jim. You provided it, and very efficiently so, according to Lieutenant Hendorff. So in my mind, you _did what you had to do_ and left it at that. It's like when you refuse to come down to Sickbay and I practically _drag your unwilling butt down there _and _hypo _you to the ends of the_ universe_! Even though we're best friends, I _refuse_ to shirk on my duties as CMO, Jim. Just as you refuse to do so as our Captain."

Jim stared at him for several moments, struck speechless for once. Slowly, a grateful smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Bones," he whispered. Without warning, the grumpy doctor was pulled into a bone-crunching hug for a few seconds, then Jim was striding purposefully down the hallway toward the turbolift.

He arrived back at the brig, and not a moment too soon, either. Sam and his gang were raising up a racket, complaining loudly and "tinkering" with every part of the ship that they could get their grimy hands on. The Science and Security officers nearby were visibly annoyed.

Hmm, he'd have to work on that bit of the picture with them. He _refused_ to give their prisoners the satisfaction of knowing they'd rankled the best of Starfleet.

But in the meantime...

"What the frick is going on here?" he bellowed in his best stern Captain voice.

Everyone froze. If not for the seriousness of the situation, he would have doubled over laughing at the expressions on their faces. Even Sam's, because for a moment he'd looked like a naughty child that had just been caught stealing a cookie from the forbidden jar. Well, for a moment at least. Now he looked like he wanted to kill him.

"So the Captain has finally emerged from his lair," Sam sneered. "Thought you'd hibernate a lot longer, considering the huge monster from your past that just reared its big ugly head."

Jim threw his infamous Death Glare at him for several moments without speaking, and Sam felt sweat beginning to trickle down his neck. If there was one thing to know about Jim Kirk, it was that while he _was_ frightening when he blustered and bellowed, he was at his _most_ dangerous when silent. Sam should know - he _grew up_ with him.

Eventually, the Captain spoke.

"Security. Let him out."

A less courageous man than Sam would have flinched - just like the others in his band of rebels and even some of the nearby Starfleet officers did - at the icy venom palpable in the Captain's words.

When the leader of the squadron hesitated to push the release button, Jim turned to face him. "That's an order, Hendorff," he snapped.

The instant Sam saw the Security officer push down on the button, he was out of there and lunging at Jim. But thanks to that niggling sixth sense of his that improved with every away mission they went on (though he has no doubt that past experience also taught him well), Jim anticipated the attack and dodged to one side at the last moment.

"Oh, you just pulled a _Frank_ move, Sam. Better watch out," Jim commented drily, slipping back into _arrogant infuriating bastard_ mode as he turned back toward his older brother, _tsk_ing.

"All right, _now_ you're just _begging_ to get beaten senseless," Sam snarled, launching himself toward Jim again.

"_Me_? _I'm_ the one who deserves to be beaten senseless?" Jim chuckled darkly. "I don't think so." He caught Sam by the elbow and judo flipped him, Academy style, onto the floor (though perhaps a bit harder than necessary. Just a bit.). His older brother _oomph_ed from the force of the impact.

The darkness that was in Jim, always had been and forever would be, had burst through his dam. There was no going back now.

He jerked Sam up on his feet again, and then his fists were a blur of motion, sending his older brother reeling and utterly powerless to defend against them. But with every major hit, Jim was growling another explanation.

"_That_ was for leaving me with that son of a gun Frank. _That_ was for never calling, not _once_, after you left. _That_ was for never showing me how to properly deal with girls and, later, women. _That_ was for not being there on Tarsus."

He'd wager more than three-quarters of the people in the area - yes, including the criminals - gasped at that last sentence. He paused, breathing heavily and glaring at Sam, whose face had paled more in the space of the last few seconds than Jim thought possible.

"Geez, Jimmy," his older brother whispered brokenly. "I - you were _there_? When he gave the order -?"

"_Don't call me that_! And yeah, I was _sent_ there after I drove the frickin' car off that cliff," Jim retorted. "Amazing what background knowledge will do to someone's opinion!"

The sympathy vanished from Sam's eyes with that exclamation. "I could be saying the same thing to _you_, brother. Do you know _why_ we did the things we did, why we committed all those oh-so-horrid crimes against your petty Federation?"

Jim gave a sharp bark of humorless laughter - the second time in as many hours, he mused. "Oh, that's an _easy_ one. Because you're not the Sam I thought I knew. Not anymore."

And with that, Jim was stalking back toward the turbolift, tossing over his shoulder, "Get him back in there."

* * *

Sometime I'll have to explain more about Sam's motives, but I think this'll do for now. Thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 10

Wow! Thanks everyone for your positive feedback! I don't really have an excuse for not updating yesterday. Just wasn't in the right state of mind, I guess.

I'll try to double-update today, but no promises. You may not get an update tomorrow because I'm leaving for camp (there's computer access, but I doubt we'll have much free time the first day).

At any rate, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**10. Evasion** (otherwise known as, Three Times Jim Avoided Talking About His Childhood in Front of His Crew)

A. _~After the Battles of Vulcan and Earth~_

The newly-promoted senior staff of the Enterprise were all gathered in a bar, as according to Acting Captain Jim Kirk they had all "dang well earned it."

Said Acting Captain now downed his shot, then tilted his chair back and waved a hand expansively around in the air.

"You all are probably wondering why I brought you here." He paused, and after receiving a nod or two in confirmation, he continued, "Well, I figured we should all get to know each other better, and it's one of my personal beliefs that a Captain - Acting or not - shouldn't just 'kinda' understand where someone is coming from, he should _know_ his crew through and through. So..." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah. Suggestions for icebreakers, anyone?"

Uhura crossed her arms over her chest. Spock gave him that strange _I-am-a-logical-Vulcan-and-this-is-highly-illogical _frown of his. Chekov looked puzzled and Sulu looked like the cat had gotten his tongue. Meanwhile, Scotty was completely focused on his bottle of scotch and Bones... Well, Bones just rolled his eyes. Typical Bones.

"All right, fine then. _I'll_ just have to come up with something," Jim said, voice imbued with the obnoxious cheer he was infamous for. (All a part of the mask. Yep.) "How about..." He paused and pretended to concentrate, then perked up as a solution 'came' to him: "I know! Truth or Dare!"

A collective groan went up around the table, but Jim wagged a finger at them. "Ah ah ah! None of you came up with an idea or even _attempted_ to, so we're going with mine!"

"Fine then," Uhura said, scowling fiercely. "Truth or Dare, _Captain_?"

"Well, I'd say Dare, but -" here he looked sidelong at his best friend sitting right next to him - "Bones here would probably kill me, so... Truth, then."

"Tell us your favorite childhood memory."

The prompt came as a surprise to Jim, in two main ways. Number one, the prompt itself was a rather... _unusual_ one, as far as Truths usually went. They were usually far more embarrassing and/or private, though in his case he was fairly sure it actually _was_ private). Number two, the speed with which she came up with the prompt was astonishing.

Noticing his questioning look, the Comms Officer shrugged. "There's always time for the actually humiliating questions later."

Jim pouted, pretending to take her words the wrong way. "So you're saying that you don't think I can handle those absolutely humiliating questions."

Uhura huffed in annoyance. "Fine then, _Captain_. What's your biggest regret in life?"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Is that the best you've got, _Lieutenant_? I thought it would be obvious." He paused just to make sure he had their full attention (all right, all right, also for dramatic flair, geesh!), then continued quietly, "That I screwed my life so royally up before Chris found me and set me straight. If it weren't for him, well..." He trailed off and mentally cursed himself for talking too much as nearly shuddered as his mind imagined himself becoming like Frank. "Let's just say that, even though you clearly don't like me now, you _really_ wouldn't want to know me by this point in time if Chris hadn't helped me out three years ago."

Uhura narrowed her eyes. "And why ever not, _Captain_?"

"Hey, he already answered your Truth! You want another one responded to, _wait your turn!_" Bones cried irritably.

Jim met his best friend's searching gaze and sent him an unspoken yet clear message of gratitude, even as he exclaimed, "Geez, Bones, I thought this stuff was supposed to cheer you up!"

The doctor scowled. "More like just loosen my tongue even more. Dang it, Jim, what the heck did you order for me, anyway?"

"Hey, it's _my_ turn, Bones, remember?" Jim protested. "So, Chekov... Favorite childhood memory?"

He'd successfully avoided talking about anyone in his Iowan family and Tarsus. Score.

* * *

B. ~After Gary Mitchell's death~

"He was a dear friend, and he will be sorely missed." Jim choked back a sob as he closed the funeral service with the last sentence of the eulogy. "Goodbye, Gary."

Later, after their debriefing of the disastrous mission, Jim and his senior staff remained in his Ready Room.

"You miss him," Spock said quietly, observing the slump of his Captain's normally proud shoulders and the palpable grief in the blue eyes that were normally so alive and full of energy.

Jim nodded once. No words were necessary, and he felt that talking would have been a little difficult anyway, taking into account the huge lump in his throat.

"How long did you know him for?" Sulu asked hesitantly.

In spite of himself, a fond smile spread across Jim's face as he remembered his first Xenobiology class (normally reserved for second-years, but with his accelerated course track...), on his very first day at the Academy. "We met in third period when I started at the Academy back in '55."

Spock (and the rest of the senior staff, he strongly suspected) was illogically glad that, for several moments at least, their Captain would be happily distracted from his mourning.

"Dang," Sulu whistled. "If you guys became that close after only four years of knowing each other, I can't imagine how strong your friendships from childhood are right now!"

Friendships from... _childhood_?

The smile on Jim's face turned bitter then. Sulu hastily apologized and changed the subject to Gary's many merits as the backup Navigator, having sensed (along with the others in the room) that something he'd said had triggered the extremely negative response from their Captain.

Except for Bones, however, they couldn't possibly imagine just what had flipped the switch. After all, Jim _must_ have had a wonderfully delightful childhood, right? He must have had a loving mother who was highly protective of her dear baby boy born in the crisis of the decade, a doting mother who clung to him all the more now that her husband was dead and gone.

Right?

* * *

C. After that incident, the topic of growing up mysteriously popped up less and less. Jim realized sometime (he wasn't sure exactly when anymore) that he had Bones to thank for that, but he did hope that the gruff surgeon hadn't permanently scarred anyone in his crew due to his... _creative_ threats.

At any rate, one night several weeks later, after a particularly long and stressful mission, Jim and a fair amount of his crew (including his senior staff, of course) were gathered in the Rec Room whilst the ship made its way to Vega III, where the crew would take their much-earned shore leave.

Inevitably, a discussion of the crew's favorite recreational activities began. And from there, it was only a matter of time before people began talking about their favorite games to play while they were growing up.

"Legend of Zelda for the win!" someone shouted. "I remember us having a party when we reached the part of the game where Link _finally, actually talks!_"

And of course, following that statement a rather large argument began over which holo game was the best, until someone broke it up by bringing up classic card games: Uno had stood the test of time, as had Bang, Rich Man Poor Man, Egyptian Rat Slap, Hearts, and (of course) the age-old War.

Jim was pondering his next move in his 3D chess game against Spock when someone shouted from across the room, "Hey Captain! What was _your_ favorite game to play as a kid?"

Jim moved his hand away from the chess board and considered the question carefully. He couldn't tell them the truth, he already knew that much. After all, how could he possibly tell them that when he had been half their current age, the activity he most found enjoyment in was _research_? He'd pretty much made it a game to himself; he'd enjoyed seeing how much better and deeper he could know and understand a subject than the people around him did in as little time as possible.

Then again, he _had_ researched a certain strategical game very often back then...

He chuckled. "This is going to sound so nerdy, but honestly -" he winced inwardly - "I'd have to say..." He grinned at the expectant puppy-like expressions on their faces. "3D chess."

Simultaneous cheers and groans went up around the room. The members of his crew who had groaned - among them Scotty and Chekov - then reluctantly paid up to those who had cheered, such as Uhura and Sulu.

At that, Bones facepalmed. "You gotta be kidding me. Your crew - even some of your _senior_ officers, for crying out loud - were _betting_ over what your favorite childhood activity was, Jim! Kids these days..." The CMO continued grumbling to himself as Jim just grinned.

The grin remained on his face as he moved his rook to a highly logical place on the board.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Spock... but that looks awfully a lot like _checkmate_."

As his First Officer stared at the board in shock for the next several moments, Jim reflected that he'd been right to lie about his favorite childhood activity. Because if he'd told the truth, well, he would have had to explain just why research was so much like a game to him.

And then he would have had to explain where his competitive streak, his pathological _need_ to be the best and to never make a mistake, came from.

And then...

Forbidden territory.

Someday, he'd tell them. Probably not his whole crew, but at the very least his senior staff who were already beginning to feel more like a part of his family than any of his real blood relatives on Earth ever did.

One day, he'd sit them down and begin talking. Just start from the very beginning and bring them up to the point in his life when Chris found the broken pieces of his soul and put them back together again.

When he was strong enough, and they were close enough to him, he'd tell them about his past. But not here, not now.

Not today.

* * *

About the Legend of Zelda series - has Link actually spoken yet? Because if not I hope it happens eventually. XD

Anyway, hope you liked it! Everyone who reviewed for the previous chapter, I'll reply sometime in the next couple of days. XD Thank you all for your continued support!


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